Forgetting Something
by desina
Summary: One-shot, set post Autumn Rayne's "I Don't Have To Do Anything." Note: spoilers for deleted scenes from Teenage Wasteland (on the Fairly Legal Season 2 DVDs, which are available from Target).


**Forgetting Something**

As I slip into the Aston Martin, I'm aware that I need to go back to the office. As we've already established, I don't _have_ to. But I need to. I don't know if she'll be there. Part of me hopes to hell she will be, and part of me is terrified at the thought. I just know I won't be able to sleep unless I at least try to see her again. Knowing me, I'll make it worse. Much worse.

I just can't help myself.

I park in the space neatly stenciled with my name, not that anyone cares at this hour. The parking levels beneath our building are empty. I sit in the car for a moment berating myself for my foolish hopes.

It's cold, but I want to feel the sting. I open the car door, take off my coat, toss it on the passenger side. Take off my suit jacket. Take off my tie. Unbutton a couple of buttons. I slump back down in the driver's seat.

This is madness.

I reach for the glove box and open it, withdrawing the flask from inside. I uncap it, sniffing the whiskey inside. My father's favorite. I ponder how much to drink, but then remember the half-drunk conversation Kate and I had after I had to come find my keys and she nearly beaned me with her saxophone. And then she took my keys from me, telling me, "You're not driving."

I'd lied to her that time, telling her the cab was waiting. It was, but I'd intended to drive straight home from the judge's house. The cab brought me a block from the judge's, and I re-parked another block further down the road, then set my watch for an hour to make sure I was sober enough that there was no question about my driving. All because Kate had shown that moment of concern.

I re-cap the flask and put it back in the glove compartment without having tasted a single drop. It's bad enough that she thought I was empty. Far worse would be her thinking I'm drunk and empty, or only coming back because I'm drunk. Better for her to know it's a sober decision.

Finally, I get out of the car, lock it, stand up straight, and walk to the elevator, awaiting its pleasant ding of readiness. A saying of my grandfather's comes to mind. "Remember this, boy. A Grogan always walks with pride, even when he's got nothing to be proud of and plenty to be ashamed of."

So why did I feel like I'm doing a walk of shame? I don't do shame.

The offices are completely dark. I step into hers, but she's not there.

Then I quietly open my own office door and see her lying on my couch, fully clothed, eyes closed, holding one of the throw pillows in her arms. For a moment, I can pretend that she's thinking of holding me. My lips curl into a smile.

I cross to the drawer I keep a blanket in, pulling it out and draping it gently over her slumbering form. It hugs her contours in ways that make me want to lick my lips in desire. I don't lick them simply because I'm afraid she'll open her eyes and see, and it will be more awkward.

She murmurs softly, but her eyes remain closed. I note the heels she's declined to take off, and I worry about my hideously expensive couch that the firm cannot afford to replace or even repair. It's stupid, but it's also a great excuse. I kneel by her feet and take the black pump in my right hand, her ankle genly in my left, and delicately remove her shoe. I watch her face, but nothing. She's asleep.

Her toes are a thing of beauty, and I don't say that lightly. I'm not exactly a foot fetishist, but I like nice feet. Given how many rings she wears, I half expected her to have a toe ring, and I'm a little disappointed that she doesn't.

I remove the other shoe just as gingerly and have just set it on the floor when her eyes bolt open. "Benedict Yancy Grogan, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Despite myself, I smirk. "Protecting my investment, Katie. You're welcome to sleep on my couch, but please remove your shoes first."

"Oh," she says sheepishly. "I wasn't intending to sleep, actually. I should get home."

Now that she's awake, it's uncomfortably close. I would probably kiss her again. Hell, I can't imagine not kissing her every single moment of every single day.

I start pulling away and she grabs my shirt with her right hand, pulling me back into the uncomfort zone. I probably have that lost sad puppy look on my face again. She tugs harder, and a button pops, landing between her breasts. Of course it does. I look at the button sadly, resisting the urge to retrieve it. She picks it up with her other hand, pulls me even closer, and chuckles softly. She slips her left hand to my waist, then drops the button into the pocket of my slacks.

I worry about that chuckle, wondering what was behind it, and I'm still wondering when I feel her lips brush ever so gently against mine. I catch the smoldering in her eyes as I brush back for the fraction of a second before she pulls away.

"Benny," she whispers.

Julius effing Caesar, I realize I'm hers to command. "Yes?"

She smiles, and her face could light up city blocks. "I never thought I'd see you on your knees."

Now I feel self-conscious about it, about having done the easy thing to remove her shoes, the way to really see her feet up close. I ponder my desire to pull out some peppermint massage oil, give her such an amazing foot rub that she'd beg for more, and I'd pull out the next massage oil for her legs, and then...

She didn't need to know about the drawer full of different massage oils I had.

Well, not tonight.

"Katie," I whispered.

"Mmm?"

"Are you sleeping here again?"

"Instead of the immaculate but sterile guest room?"

I thought of the very unsterile place I had, or at least I liked to think so. I'd never have managed it without a designer and buckets of money, though, because I spent too much time at the office. Hell, I had a home office I almost never used. "Yeah."

"No, I was going there, just not yet."

I tilted my head, not willing to ask the question.

She sighed. "I normally don't go there until Lauren goes to sleep, okay? There's only so much I can deal with her. It's just easier."

I almost wanted to volunteer my living room couch, but that would inevitably lead to my bed, and I knew she was far from ready for that even though I was not. Instead, I found myself emitting a soft sigh on her behalf.

"I can take you if you're ready now," I said. Immediately after realizing what I'd said, I felt my neck flush slightly and I added hastily, "To Lauren's!"

She giggled at my unintentional double entendre. "You blush!"

That only made it worse, of course. Still, I couldn't help but smile. I'd surprised her, and she was delighted by the surprise.

Once the giggling died down, she said, "I'm ready, but you'll need to put my shoes back on," she said, pointing her toes. "Since you're down there and all."

I held her left foot and used my best "I've seen a lot of shoe salesmen at Neiman Marcus and Nordstrom do this" technique. Truth is, I'd never really been the kind of man who'd taken women's shoes off a woman - or put them on her - but I could see that, with Kate, I would simply have to change.

I helped her up, put the blanket away, and grabbed two random files off my desk, then helped her into her coat and into my car. We drove to Lauren's in silence, both of us looking straight ahead.

I walked her to the door, as I always would do, and paused far enough away that she wouldn't think I was asking to be invited in. Last time had been a disaster, after all.

She unlocked the door, turned, and smiled. "Thank you," she said.

"For?"

"Being human." With that, she turned and closed the door behind me, and I walked to my car wondering what the hell she'd meant by it.


End file.
